Nights of rage and fire

Radio Baghdad broadcasting from Rostock nights:

Heiligendamm is surrounded by tall walls. Nobody, except those living there or the dogs faithful to the world’s elite can possibly get past the high fences and wire there.

So we go to Rostock, to protest against the destroyers gathering in Heiligendamm, for this version of Smoke and Mirrors, for this G8 meeting. But the storm troopers, the current version of the Gestapo attack us even there. There is no pretense, really, no attempt from the cops, the «riot police» to come off as benevolent. They are after us from the moment we arrive at Copenhagen Central Station, and when we arrive at the German border that presence is doubled many times. They harass us and attempt to intimidate us at every juncture on the journey to Rostock. When we arrive there they greet us in their warm and pleasant manner. We are roughed up and searched, and they do their utmost to make it pleasant for us…

But still thousands of people gather in Rostock, in spite of their efforts. And we see how that frustrates them, how it infuriates them. They attack the gathering almost immediately. First there are a few «exercises», limited excursions into the crowd. We know this pattern well and know what to expect.

Then… it begins. They attack us with a viciousness and brutality that quite frankly scares the shit out of me. But we have long ago decided not to let us be intimidated or scared by these people. Their beyond cruel methods and systematic terror just give us one more reason to stand up against them.

They attack us with their clubs and everything. As stated there is no pretence here, in the streets of teargas and coughing and screaming and pain. We fight back, and I’m pleased to declare that more of us fight back this time than ever before. We meet Gestapo with a force easily overwhelming theirs. This is different, different from all the times we have been easy prey. We strike back, and these soldiers of tyranny begin to fall, begin to lose. They drop in the dozens, in the hundreds. We do, too. Wails of pain and horror rise from these streets of fire, but this time we aren’t helpless victims. There are sufficient numbers of angry protesters to stem the advancing tide of tyranny’s brutal thugs. Hundreds are injured and for once they are mostly cops, and we shout in triumph. We know we haven’t really won anything, that this is at best, just another illusionary victory, but it feels good, and it might yet again be the beginning of something new and dangerous and great, a great omen for the future.

We cough again, in surroundings of teargas and steam and body fluids, and cry out in pain and rage, and it is a wonder to behold.